I moved to Dubai as others were leaving. My company made the decision easy.
The first thing you need to understand about my move to Dubai in early 2024 is the timing. For the better part of two years, the narrative had been one of departure. Tech workers, financial analysts, and even long-time expat families were packing up, citing the rising cost of living, the new corporate tax regime, and a general sense that the “gold rush” was cooling off. LinkedIn was a parade of farewell posts—sunset shots from the Palm, captions about “incredible memories,” and the inevitable move back to London or Singapore.
I read those posts with a strange mix of anxiety and curiosity. I was in my late twenties, working a decent news desk job in a major European capital. My rent ate half my salary. My weekends were spent in queues. I was tired. And then, out of the blue, my editor called me into a meeting that would change everything.
“We’re opening a bureau in DIFC,” she said. “And we want you to run the desk for the first six months. Full relocation. Tax-free salary. Housing allowance.”
I blinked. “But everyone is leaving Dubai.”
She laughed. “That’s exactly why we’re going.”
The numbers that changed my mind
I did my homework. I looked past the clickbait headlines about “The Great Exit” and dug into the data. Yes, some sectors had seen a contraction. The crypto bubble had burst, and the Russian influx that spiked in 2022 had stabilized. But the fundamentals were stronger than anyone wanted to admit. The UAE’s non-oil GDP was growing at nearly 5%. Real estate transactions in Q1 of 2024 hit a record high. Companies weren’t leaving—they were restructuring.
My company’s logic was brutally simple: while others were retreating to cheaper jurisdictions, the media landscape in the Gulf was consolidating. There was a vacuum. Advertisers were hungry for local content. The audience was shifting from print to digital, but the talent pool had thinned. My employer saw an opportunity to hire hungry journalists who were willing to bet on the region’s long-term stability.
And the offer? It was absurdly good. A fully furnished apartment in Marina, a car allowance, school fees covered if I had kids (I don’t, but still), and a salary that, after tax, was nearly double what I was making in Europe. The clincher was the contract: renewable, with a clear path to permanent residency. My company didn’t just want a short-term fix. They wanted me to plant roots.
Landing in the “leaving” city
I arrived on a Tuesday in March. There was a sandstorm. The taxi driver told me business was down 30% from the previous year. “Too many people left,” he said. “But more will come. They always come.”
The first week was disorienting. I walked through the empty corridors of the Dubai International Financial Centre. Some floors were dark. The coffee shop had half the staff. I felt a pang of doubt. Had I made a mistake? Was I the idiot walking into a party that had already ended?
But then I started working. I began meeting the people who stayed. The entrepreneurs launching fintech startups. The media producers building Arabic-language content farms. The logistics guys managing the expansion of ports. They weren’t worried. They were too busy.
One conversation stuck with me. A senior editor at a rival outlet told me: “The people who left were mostly those who came for a quick buck. The ones who stayed came for a life. There’s a difference.”
The reality of working in Dubai today
Let me be brutally honest about the downsides. The summer heat is oppressive. The traffic on Sheikh Zayed Road is a nightmare. The cost of a decent brunch is eye-watering. And yes, the corporate culture can be intense—expect late nights, fast turnaround, and a zero-tolerance for mediocrity.
But here’s what the “leaving” crowd didn’t tell you: the infrastructure works. The internet is fast. The bureaucracy, while sometimes confusing, is efficient if you know the right people. And the money? It’s real. No, you won’t get rich just by breathing the air. But if you have a skill that’s in demand, you can save 40-50% of your income without living like a monk. That’s not possible in New York, London, or Sydney.
My company made the decision easy because they removed the risk. They didn’t ask me to “figure it out.” They gave me a concrete package, a clear role, and a support system. They understood that the fear of moving wasn’t about the city—it was about the uncertainty. By eliminating that, they turned a gamble into a calculation.
What I’ve learned six months in
The narrative about Dubai is always written by people who either love it uncritically or hate it passionately. The truth is more boring. It’s a transactional city. You get what you give. If you’re willing to work hard, adapt, and ignore the noise, it rewards you. If you come expecting a holiday, you’ll leave disappointed.
I’m not saying everyone should move here. The visa regime is changing, and it’s getting harder for low-skilled workers to stay. The social safety net is thin. The competition is fierce. But for people like me—journalists, editors, content creators, digital strategists—the opportunity is actually better now than it was two years ago. The herd thinned. The grass is greener not because the climate is better, but because there’s less competition for the water.
Would I have made this leap without my company’s offer? Probably not. I was comfortable. I was scared of the unknown. But they made the decision easy. They bet on the city when everyone else was betting against it. And so far, that bet is paying off.
I’m not writing this to convince you to move. I’m writing this because the next time you read a headline about a mass exodus, ask yourself: who is leaving, and why? Sometimes the ones leaving are the ones who never really arrived. The rest of us are just getting started.
— Ahmed Abed – News journalist